Category: Motherhood

“Mommy.” “Mommy!” “Mommy!!!” The word can be the most precious sound to hit my ear drums or the most mind grating trigger word in the dictionary.

It has been a weekend of errands, travel from Point A to B and back, then to Points C, D, and E. Our littlest family member has been a bear under his mop of blonde hair and sweet little eyes demanding “Eat”, “Water.” “Mommy hold me.” In the continuance of our novel of first world problems, the wash machine had been broken for weeks and now fixed but for the annoying chirping noise it screamed as it struggled to keep up with mountain of laundry thrown at it.

The dishwasher took a lesson from the wash machine and has taken its own spring break. I think you fall into two camps of dishwasher users when the dishes don’t come clean… the first being the ones that take the dirty bowl realizing it is not clean and use the pioneer approach of soap, water, and their own hands to clean said dish OR the second, the one that realize the bowl is still full of scum and just throw it back into the dishwasher again…and maybe again… and again. I fall in the second camp so the dishes have emerged as their own life force from the sink as I admitted dishwasher defeat.

All this added up to an exhausting weekend….so when the need to check the animals emerged I grabbed my camera, muck boots, and coat and headed out. Spring had offered a glimpse of its return but was kicked out of the picture today by big, wet snow flakes.

It was magical…heavy, wet flakes fell upon my head only to melt and run to my eyes. The scene was quiet aside from the crunch of my boots and paws of my side kick, Brody. Occasionally, I would hear and feel the sloush of the soft mud and puddles below the accumulating snow as a remembrance of spring that had been present just hours before.

It was if I had entered my own snow globe… a globe of calm without kid’s demands or visual reminders of my inadequacies as a housekeeper, or racing thoughts of my inability to heal my patients. I felt peace, a clearing of mind as the snow fell, hypnotizing all in its presence. I remember as a child, holding the heavy globe in my hand mesmerized by the perfect little scene made magical by a shake of my hand. I entered my own snow globe and dared not leave.

In my world of phone dings and anxious thoughts, laundry and dishes I found a moment of peace. I hope in this week ahead you can find your own moments of peace.

“Peace. It doesn’t mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.”

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This week we had a spring blizzard resulting in ice and snow. The kiddos and myself had a snow day so that meant the entire family worked to keep everyone fed and warm. The heifers also started calving this week so be prepared for an overshare of calf pictures coming your way.

Things have been busy to say the least…though I still have my camera by my side.

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The winter storm warnings started days ago… rain, ice, inches of snow. Warnings to be prepared, especially when newborn livestock lives are at stake. Warnings like this have come before, some living up to their hype and other just enticing worry for nothing. The lambing boom we have had over the last 48 hours suggest something is in the air.

The ewe lambs (yearlings and first time mothers) have started lambing and there is no “What to Expect When You Are Expecting” manuals for sheep so they require a bit of extra TLC and guidance from us humans to figure out this new motherhood role. It is important for the ewe and lambs to bond and ensure they are nursing well in the smaller jug pens before moving out amongst the other ewes and lambs. But when lambs keep coming the inn fills up quickly.

So the morning was spent processing lambs, ensuring the couple of lambs that had become chilled and hungry thru the night were back on track. One little lamb born a twin to a yearling ewe mother, was adopted to a more mature mother after he became weak and cold (twins seemed just too much for his young mother).

Our little lamb warmer/cuddler

My little guy and I had gone out to check lambs this afternoon and found two new mothers. He ran to me with elation at his findings and we quickly scrambled to figure out who would move out of the lambing room to make room. I called my father-in-law as back-up (my hubby was sleeping after a exhaustive shepherding night and for the sake of his cognitive ability was taking a much needed nap).

It became apparent that one of the yearlings had another lamb yet to deliver and hadn’t yet done so successfully, signaling trouble. I slipped my hands into the ewe to investigate the origin of the single leg that was emerging from the warm and cozy womb. My little guy came running with his exam gloves on ready to help. We worked together to reposition the little lamb, turning his neck back around and freeing his other leg. My son and I pulled the little legs and held our breaths waiting for lamb to become free of the womb he had known for the past five months.

We waited for that sign of life, a gasp of air, a shake of the head but found none. I asked my little guy to grab a towel to wipe him, as if I might rub the life back into him. Perhaps he was really still alive but I had just missed the signs. As he ran back, my mind raced with all the “what-ifs”, “if-only”, and regrets.

He was declared dead, perfectly formed and ready for the world, only to be taken too soon. The big tears fell down my little guy’s chubby cheeks and he wailed for this dead lamb. My little guy took the lamb wrapped in the towel and cried over him while our attentions turned to the living lambs.

My little guy cried all the way to the house and ran inside to tell his Dad. He hugged his Dad and told the story of the lamb that came dead and his sadness. He said “I even prayed over him.” The decision was made to return the barn as a family to say our good-byes and have a little “service” for the lamb that died when he came out, the saddest way to die according to our 5 year old.

So the limp, cold lambs still wet with “birth” was laid on the rectangular burlap bale filled with wool, as if a lamb on the alter. My little guy stood over the lamb with his hands gently placed on his lifeless body as our family looked on. With sadness in his voice, he prayed…

“Bless us our Lord, and these thy gifts. For which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord. Amen”

Turns out there aren’t really any known prayers for the departed lambs, no funeral rites prepared for lambs who never drew a breath. He said the best prayer he knew after his earlier prayers for the lamb to come alive and breath had failed.

The tears dried and the little lamb that died when he was coming out was remembered amongst the others we have lost. Our little guys cheeks were stained with salty tears and barn dirt, as he climbed the wire panel and set off to catch a lamb among the living.

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Last month was school picture time. We can all remember school picture day… my sisters and I seemed to have a knack for picking the trendiest, least timeless outfit from our closets (think puffy paint sweatshirts, Hypercolor, Garth Brooks style western wear with lime green Roper jeans that served as a bra in addition to their function as jeans, and the list goes on). The Little Cowboy didn’t really get all that excited about “Picture Day”…it was just another day where it just so happens your likeness will be preserved for all entirety only to re-appear in a high school graduation slide show. He picked his outfit and we tried to make sure his hair wasn’t sticking up.

One of his little classmates brought pictures of herself to share with the class. He quickly declared that he wanted to share pictures too… great… we can cut up this little 1×2″ school pictures where he was positioned just so, with his shoulders off-center to the camera and his smile as awkward as can be. But no, those photos would not do.

In more of a senior photo shoot style, he had plans to share photographs that expressed who he was and what he loved. The instructions were laid out… he needed his pony for these photos. Every good cowboy needs to showcase their horse. He would borrow a toy gun with sound (even though it was a still photo and not videography) from his Grandpa. He had his rope, saddle, chaps, cowboy hat, and vest. He was a cowboy not of the Country Music Signer era with rhinestoned back pockets but of the Old West, where grit not glitter defined a cowboy.

I learned this summer when we visited the Range Rider’s Museum in Montana (this kid’s Disney Land) and I had asked for a photo that “cowboy’s didn’t have smiles back in that day”. So the Little Cowboy with his infectious giggle and round, rosy cheeks will cross his arms, tilt his hat, and straighten his mouth like the weathered, worn cowboys that rode the range.

I snuck a smile.

While the Little Cowboy may be tough in spirit he is still my 5 year old baby boy, apparent when giant tears rolled down his face has he mounted his pony. He remembered his tumble off her when she had put her head down to eat and he was afraid. His Dad is more patient and knows just what to say to calm his nerves… he asked him to sing one of his favorite songs…

“Sit tall in the saddle. Hold your head up high. Keep your eyes fixed where the trail meets the sky and live like you ain’t afraid to die. And don’t be scared, just enjoy your ride.”

His Dad seemed to know that this Little Cowboy needed a job to distract his fearful mind. So off he went to push heifers out the corral. As it turned out the photo from this moment was his favorite….the “ONE” that would be shared with his entire classroom. “I need nine of this picture Mom!”

The ‘ONE”

So don’t expect that traditional school picture. Instead you will be getting a photo that truly captures who he sees himself as…a working cowboy mounted on his trusty little pony tending to his stock. It is a picture that could have been taken one hundred years ago and told the same story.

“Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving. What you have caught on film is captured forever…It remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything.

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*I wrote this one weekend a while back and just let it sit… but I wanted to revisit the topic as we move into the holiday season.*

My toddler is far less verbal than my first kiddo but one thing that seems perfectly clear is “No”. He has always been interactive and communicative in his own way and understood everything you say but words haven’t been his strong suite. The toddler just turned two in August and has really come into his own at expressing his clear disagreement with “No” clear as a bell. In fact he has multiple “No-s”.

There is “NOOOO” with a angry vibrato and deep conviction. “Hey buddy we will need to finish up playing so we can go home soon.” With frustration and anger his whole body will growl “NOOOOO!”.

Then there is the annoyed, how dare you ask “No- aah” with a little toddler sas. “Did you want to play with this toy?” Then the clearly “you don’t understand my preferences and desires Mother” response of “Noo-ah”. This is also a popular response when the suggestion of a nap is made.

The final most distinct variations is the quick, sharp “No” or “Nope” which is done when he is just too busy and needs to get us out of his hair. While he is busy running around outside, we might ask “Do you want some water?” and without much acknowledgement as he sprints by “No” and he is gone.

That is in stark contrast to my “No-s”?

“Well maybe?”

“We will see.”

“If I have time.”

“I will think about it”

“Probably not”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“I am not sure…we might have…bla…bla”

There is the “Well actually, umm…”

Or the ignore the request until it hopefully just magically disappears or they forget to ask again…

I was wisely told “Let your “Yes” be “Yes” and your “No” be “No”.

Simple enough but it really isn’t. I had to really reflect on how many times my brain and body are screaming “no” but out of my mouth comes some wishy washy answer that implies there might be a chance.

This is pretty evident with my kiddos. The question goes “Can we do X after supper?”. By all accounts there is no way on Earth we are going out after dark to hunt coyotes while sleeping under the sheet they fashioned as a tent when the temperature is 32 degrees. So instead of a “No, let’s do this instead” I say “We will see….” See about what Jessie, about the temperature suddenly warming 40 degrees or the spring equinox coming back around to extend the day light.

Saying “no” is hard because it makes me realize in saying no I might disappoint someone or create conflict that would be easier to push aside.

Saying no is really an art to balance your own personal happiness and joy and the requests that seem to never stop some days.

I am not an expert (far from it) at saying “No” but here is what I am working on:

Priorities: What do I value? They say you make time for what matters so instead of pushing off requests and invites either they matter enough to say yes or the honest truth is I have other priorities. I realized that the only person I am truly not replaceable to is my family. A client may say they adore me but the reality is they will get their needs served elsewhere if I should drop off the Earth or even just be unavailable for a simple day here and there.

Am I just being nice so I get praise and attention? What is the reason I am saying yes. Will it really bring joy or am I doing it for someone’s else’s approval and attention.

Will saying yes now create a precedence for the future that I am not prepared for. This happens with my kiddos a lot…but yesterday you said we could have ice cream at 11pm

I can say “No” and that be OK. I don’t haveguard anyone against the disappointment or emotion that may come with that sacrificing my own feelings.

….How do you say “No”? Are you a “No” means “No” person?

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Fall is officially here. The morning sun is slow to rise and quick to bed and there is a briskness in the air that warns of the impending winter. The alarm went off before the chickens crowed, the house still quiet and sleepy. We dressed the kiddos half asleep and started our day, ready for our date morning.

We have seemingly abandoned the idea of date nights where it seemed the exhaustion of the day meant just the idea of sitting in a restaurant stuffing our faces seemed too much to bear. We have embraced “date mornings” that start before the sunrise and end with breakfast and coffee. The morning is fresh and without the irritations and annoyances that build up thru the day otherwise.

The horses were saddled and in the trailer. The rules for the “date” were pretty simple. Take as many pictures as you want (but don’t expect to stop) but try to be quiet and don’t talk. That would be hard for me but quiet time together is better than no time together. Without the need for forced dialogue, perhaps I could just enjoy my company.

My meteorologist hubby suggested I wear a T-shirt and sweatshirt as it was “warm” this morning but the wind was bitter and fierce so I was forced to dig out an oversized jacket from the backseat. I figured it wouldn’t only provide warmth but perhaps act as cushioned airbag should I hit the ground. We headed across the National Forest Service Lands in search of deer (preferably a large mule deer buck).

The morning was almost meditative as the steps of my horse caused a rhythmic rocking and the morning sun cast a golden glow on the fall foliage. My horse huffed and puffed up and down the hillsides in protest of my lacking athleticism and weight, but in truth was more likely a reflection of his own fitness. The peak of color has passed and the hillsides are darkened with bear branches awaiting their snowy winter highlights.

We rode the ridges with no protection of the wind as it swirled and swooshed, acting as an annoying near constant shove against our bodies, determined in its efforts. The juniper stands offered a welcome relief from the wind and a comforting fall smell as my jeans brushed past.

We saw no deer aboard the horses but the young horse and I gained some much needed confidence and miles under our belts. The conversation was sparse but the memories many.

Times have sure changed since our young love “official dates”. We don’t frequent fancy restaurants and am not sure the last time we went to the movie theater or bowled together. But I value working along side my hubby and cherish our quiet moments together, no matter the time of day or location. Life is chaotic and messy most days but sometimes it just seems important to carve out a little time together.

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“I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order”.~John Burroughs

I love sensory bins and experiences…I have Pinterest boards full of bins with beans and rice or water beads…I follow Instagram slime enthusiasts! I do what today’s modern good mother does and sensitize my kiddos!

Yet, the ultimate sensory experience though remains out our front door…in nature! A couple of weeks ago on a Sunday morning, our little family dressed and hit the dirt road before the sun rose in search of deer sightings.

The fall brings warm days but brisk nights. The moon was still in the sky and the air cool as we drove thru neighborhood. The dawn is a perfect time to spot wildlife as they are busy feeding and moving before the heat of the day and bright sun drives them to their beds.

While Hubby and the oldest headed out to scout and glass along the horizon of the Badlands, the Little One and I headed out on a nature walk.

Sharing nature with a child, allows me to see what my eyes and senses have been blinded to.

The Little One is always searching for birds in the sky or bugs on the ground. Finding the littlest of ants is cause for the biggest of celebrations. While the eyes are searching, the feet are exploring the terrain. I have seen the uneven plastic stepping stones to encourage balance offered for sale on Amazon. In the cow pasture, dried cow pies serve a similar purpose as the Little One jumped from one to the next as he balanced on top of the irregular circle of undigested fiber.

Sticks, moss, and bark stimilate the developing nervous system as we touch and feel. My favorite grass is Little Bluestem and the hill sides come alive in its vibrant red this time of year. As we walk by and rub the sage with our pant legs, our noses are filled with the pungent earthy odor.

We crawl under and over and thru branches and brush. The Little One tests his strength and balance as he finds his limits.

Being in nature truly engages all one’s senses as we listen to birds sing and the hum of the oil pumper melodically pumping up and down, up and down.

We went to a new location to scout and as we rounded the road tens of butterflies were disturbed from their feeding on golden rod. As we walked amongst them it was like being in our own private butterfly conservatory.

There is so much nature all around us to enjoy. Here are some things we have cultivated amongst our kids.

1) Encourage quiet observation. In our busy world, slow those little minds and have them truly observe their surroundings. Do you see wildlife? How many rocks are on that hillside?

2) Touch it… why not! Unless it is poisonous or going to bite feel the textures of nature.

4) Be careful but not too careful! Explore! Test limits but don’t fall down the ravine.

5) Fresh air is good for the body and mind! Get that heart rate up climbing hills or hiking those trails!

“The senses are a kind of reason. Taste, touch and smell, hearing and seeing, are not merely a means to sensation, enjoyable or otherwise, but they are also a means to knowledge – and are, indeed, your only actual means to knowledge.” ~St. Thomas Aquinas